"braless" poems
there was a slice of chocolate cake in the fridge
and my sister asked me if i wanted it.
i didn't respond, stared off into space
and continued to smoke my cigarette
in the kitchen because mom was
asleep already and it was 1 am
on a saturday in july
and it was hot and we were both braless and hoping
the single fan on the counter would circulate the air enough
to make us comfortable in the cottage that we called home
that didn't have air conditioning in the middle of the woods.
the three of us hadn't moved for three more hours,
instead spent all of that time talking about nothing
and everything the way sisters do
because sisters eventually end up saying all the words that have
to be said
but each time it sounds new even though it never is.
we're all different but the thing about sisters is
that other people always see you as the same.
we all eventually grew into having brown hair
even though i had been born a redhead
and she had been born blond
and she had been born the same shade of brunette
that still graced her scalp but was thinner than the rest of ours
and fit in an elastic pony tail comfortably
unlike mine, which broke those things immediately
and she, who cut hers all off in hopes
to cleanse herself and
keep herself from being weighed down.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
My femininity is not found in submissive glances to the handsome gentleman standing next to the apples. And as I’m gingerly picking up bananas, hoping he notices how I slowly caress the yellow skin.
My femininity isn’t found in hours spent in front of my mirror every morning putting on a face full of makeup, enhancing my natural beauty amongst the lipstick and perfectly applied winged eyeliner.
My femininity isn’t found in clothes that hug my curves and accenting my child bear hips; inviting you to take a second glance.
It isn’t found in a well placed compliment and a giggle and a smile that’s strokes your ego and make your testosterone burn in your veins.
It’s found in my laugh, my tears, my passionate screams when the rest of the world lay quiet. It’s found in bubble baths and empowering women and teaching little girls that their power isn’t held in the palm of a man.
It’s found in my presence as I walk in a room, unapologetically powerful as I need no compliments from you.
It’s found in my words, nurturing ways and my refusal to let you not be accountable for your ********
My femininity smells of tears, whiskey and cigarette smoke; if it makes your eyes water I implore you to leave the room.
It’s laughs that are too loud, words that are too offensive and a mind that will make you question your ideas of the world.
I smell weakness and I revolt out the back door, I have no use for the likes of small minded individuals. I know my worth and I refuse to lower my standards so your ego can swell.
It’s found in leggings and sweats and braless brigades. It’s found in wild untameable hair that is full of secrets that I guard with a seething vengeance.
It’s found in arms outstretched to my children who I will raise to be good men, who if they so much as make another woman feel uncomfortable will deal with the wrath of their mother and they will be sliced into hero’s. My boys will know how to find a woman, and if found she must be treasured and held to the highest of respect.
My femininity’s foundation is found in power and preservation. It is found in a smart forked tongue with a wild and brilliant mind; you will feel it as I walk through the door and I do not need to prove it to you.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
Former X Factor presenter Tulisa is certainly bouncing back after her recent drink driving arrest and the night after rocking a **** white ensemble on the red carpet, slipped into this risque red number.
The 27-year-old flashed some serious cleavage as she went braless in the bandeau dress, that left very little to the imagination and perfectly showed off her toned arms and abs.
She teamed the show-stopping look with heavy make-up and let her dark locks, styled in loose barrel curls, fall over her shoulders.
The star - who spent nearly 22 hours at a South London police station after a car accident earlier this month - posted the figure-hugging outfit on social media on Tuesday afternoon and jokingly wrote alongside it: "I did not wake up like this".
The night before the former N-Dubz singer rocked a more demure look on the red carpet as she joined Myleene Klass and Mark Wright at Roar Group's 21st Birthday Celebrations at Avenue.
It had been her first public appearance since her arreston suspicion of drink-driving earlier this month.
The star reportedly told friends she only enjoyed a “quick drink” at home 20 minutes before crashing her Ferrari into the side of another car just before midnight.
The star spent nearly 22 hours in custody after failing a breath test after she crashed into a Saab.
Tulisa is said to have narrowly missed two pedestrians before the crash. If the Young singer is charged and convicted, she could be jailed for up to two years and be banned from driving for up to 12 months.
She has been released on bail until November.
read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
She uses eyeliner to coat the
mistakes and wrinkles on her heavy lids.
Smelling of cheap wine and corn chips,
she roams the streets braless,
searching.
But braless works for her,
and so do eyeliner and corn chips.
And under the yellow pitcher of light
from the street lamps,
she is illuminated.
Her wrinkles dissolve like sugar in tea.
Snarled, piled hair becomes a frosted up-do.
Eyelashes long and curled.
A beauty mark on her left cheek.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 1:08 AM UTC
I am not one to placate beggars of description and hardly know where I lived besides. early on I picked up a stone and my friends passed it around after I threw it. few went braless. sex was something of a docile raccoon cub in a half globe of ice. fathers all were barked down from the same tree by the same poets. in the previous I will be refusing to enter the trailer home of my ninth grade love where for all I learn her hound might still be waiting for its ball sack to fall. I will inspect only what is already true. if in the following you do not come upon a series of blank pages just when the getting is good than my publisher was chosen too quickly and my brilliance is of less remain. as I am well versed in parental infighting I have little vote but to edit my mother and abridge my father and say they were kids looking at an ultrasound of an empty stomach other than my mother’s.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
TinMan asked a question,
Lynda didn't even know.
OZ was the answer,
The Wizard didn't even slow.
***** ***** detox in the blend,,
Scratching, retching, loathing, mashing.
Crawling out of her skin....
4 days, 5 days,
When would the pain ever end!!!
Mindless, braless, hating to the end
The disease trying, fighting,
The TinMan never giving in.
Listening praying writing reading,
Mona Lisa bathing, breathing, eating,
Smiling
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
i still remember her braless
in the summer sun of Vilano beach
she's just wrapped in my undershirt
and glowing in the Spanish wind
she still lives in the tunnels
way down below my heart
we couldn't find wifi
in her apartment so i knelt
at her alter in the whirling dark
but she kept me
at arm's length and touched me
only with her fingertips as if
i was particles in a braille warning
her fingerprints smelled like menthols
i can still taste her skin on my teeth
i slipped just as she caught her footing
she stood silent and true on the raised edge
she said she was looking for something to
hold onto, "well, what about me," i asked
but her fingers just formed rings around my eyes
to dam the water there she cut the string
that was always between us
she laughed as i was on my way down
through the vines i saw her rising
toward the ceiling
and now any time i make love to someone else
she comes to me projected on any bedroom or
back alley wall she opens my chest
so the Spanish wind can escape
and shows me the places
she inserted the blade
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 8:18 PM UTC
Born again
I have been born a hundred times but like the inches between my thighs it is never quite enough
I was born this morning I woke up mourning my flawed skin but when I use cover up it is not jut the blemishes I'm hiding.
Born again into highschool and by the second hour it is your sweet sixteen,
And you're jealous fifty girls bodies you've seen.
Born again and by the end of the day, you've graduated from seven minuets in heaven
by now you're more comfortable with showing photos of your naked body than your naked face.
Born into the whispers of *** deprived teenage males who's idea of a good tale is talking about the circumference of a women's chest
and if she's a size zero,
Well I have zero tolerance for unrealistic standards.
Speaking of unrealistic since when was it real for a women only to feel worthy to a man when's she's altered her body.
I grew up in a society with make up adds on tv full of women who have inches between their knees and my peers beg please,
Please,
Please can I look like that as if photoshop could be found In our makeup bags.
Born again into a mans world where some women are still underpaid due to the gender they did not choose to be.
Where third world girls cannot go to school because they obviously cannot handle the task of picking up a tool as difficult as a pencil?
They die again.
We die again
and again without the enlightenment of knowing that we were born with
hairy legs,
crooked teeth,
oily skin
and braless.
We were born worthy and real,
we die to feel acceptance and love and somewhere in between we give up loving ourselves
and we accept that as were born to believe that that's the only way to live.
Many believe that suffrage ended yet we still suffer,
but it's our choice to endure the pain.
Be born again but this time be born in the rain unafraid of your make up running down your face.
Wash it off.
Be born again.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Sunkissed and messy headed
Blessed be that fashion sense
Her tangled mane is a metaphor, a facet
To her mangled brain
Not in the cute black-and-white, scrawled notecard manner
A carved-out, paper cut of a sheet
Crammed in the bottom of her bottle brained backpack
Worse than the weekly
Chic self-harmed hipbones,
She sits and eats and watches the world from the real world clones
The blanket's just hot enough to cook her down
Reduced to the ruched Jovani gown
She's got lists of friends, you have to
Scroll down a page
It even has to load awhile
Then why's your radius clear of anyone?
Pixelated fixtures of her mind, too close to miss her
Too close to care
So close, all they are's aware
Minds drone, like bone picking
Knowing you're the stick in the mud
Warm blood behind a boil, just kicking for
Another tab to click in
She's been braless awhile now
Profiled with purchases levels lapping her current state
She pinches skin impatiently, chocolate scouring her teeth
It's the bitter taste of something so horribly surface
They erase away the beneath.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
i had been waiting for her
forlorn and forsaken
and for so long
day after day
night after night
she used to say
that it was too late
it had been too long
it would be too hard
and it would be wrong
and that she had moved on...
one day, out of many,
(years had passed)
i wrote her
to let her know
that i still love her
that i still want her
that i still need her
and we met
(in the middle)
of the night
like we used to
got in my car
drove to the bar
shared a bottle of wine,
or two
and i smiled
and she laughed
we got close
like we used to
not thinking about this
not thinking about that
not thinking at that time
at that place
at that moment
we would kiss kiss kiss
(O, bliss! bliss! bliss!)
delicate and delightful
desirable and delicious
she whispered,
(i remember it as if it were yesterday)
softly and sweetly
"baby, i still love you"
she used to say
that it was too late
it had been too long
it would be too hard
and it would be wrong
and that she had moved on...
back to my place
hurrying to the bedroom- ***** it,
the living room will do
the fling fling flinging of clothes
thoughts racing, racing thoughts
the abandoning of
insecurities and imperfections
she,
braless and beautiful
******* full and breathless
beaming brilliant beautiful
together, we,
in a familiar position again
tempestuous, and together again
nothing between us
but the moisture
from our heated hearts
forming and gathering
gathering and forming
as we moved in
rhyming. rhythmic. rhapsody.
up (up) and down (down)
up (up) and down (down)
i had been waiting for her
forlorn and forsaken
and for so long
day after day
night after night
she used to say
that it was too late
it had been too long
it would be too hard
and it would be wrong
and that she had moved on
so i moved on
though i didn't want to
i still loved her too
and that night,
nothing else mattered.
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
a broken raccoon
in the black hair
of a toppled
trash can. god
saying
the tie
goes
to the eardrum.
father and the stick he swears by.
mother
braless
unplugging
an iron. the washer of the foot
that will touch
one bag
of an erased
home run. and. the soft
anorexic
the washer
of the anxious
gay.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
where the beauty is?
why do we only see the beautiful ones on display,
perfect as complete perfection, photo/makeup/cosmetic correction can make them stay...
replay, forever young, caught in some perpetual still life like on a canvas,
flawless, braless with ever perky ******* and bright white teeth polish,
bronzed skin and too tight everything, my god how the world must sing
whenever they strut their **** all around and bring
the rest of us less than perfect ones down by saying... nothing
according to the magazines, there go my dreams,
all in a too fat, too flat, where the fuck's my **** at,
reality in play, myself is where I stay,
stuck, in 6 weeks you can be like them, in six months you can be like her,
in 6 years you'll be like you... cause that's the cards we're played,
the genetic makeup, life breakup, reality shakeup is
that the impossible really is just that,
the beautiful really are just that,
and inside I'm just that
so wake up all you magazine covers, look up and take notice all you trend setters,
stuck up, rich ***** fake *** wanna be real but gotta fake it *******
this... is where the beauty is
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Imagine you being with the love of your life
And seeing their smile just light up the night.
Imagine you're cuddling; you're holding them near
As you whisper in their ear that they have nothing to fear.
The night goes flawless; you live life lawless.
She goes braless; he goes drawless.
Making love in the moonlight, until you hear them scream
Only to wake up and realize it was nothing but a dream.
Realizing it's a dream, it reminds you that they're gone
Reminding you that you gotta be strong, get up and move on.
It's a cold, cruel reality that we all live in;
Bringing us to our knees and forcing us to give in to sin.
Love is an element; you think you can handle it?
Because it comes with all the elements of pain.
Your heart's gone; your mind's lost in it's thoughts from the loss
Of your life...but you're alive? It drives you insane..
They're always there in your prayers, in your dreams and your nightmares;
An idolized and prized possession; someone so rare.
You sit and reminisce on how those memories create a bliss;
Such a bittersweet perfectness in alternate universes.
You try to stay awake because they show up in your dreams
And the less you acknowledge their existence, the more it seems
That the universe is toying with your weakened, wounded heart.
Can't pull yourself together because love is tearing you apart
And you wonder how you can take it all away
To stop the demons from telling you you can't live another day
Without your love, but up above, God's love will always prevail.
In the Bible, 1st Corinthians states that "Love never fails."
But if you were to take my advice, I know it's not the best
But don't fall in love; fall off a bridge cuz it hurts less
And that nothing is forever cuz forever is a lie.
That all we got is what we had between hello and goodbye.
You can't destroy yourself though; it just isn't worth it.
You gotta understand that life is filled with sadistic, evil ********
Trying to run you down in the ground where you can't make a sound
And once you're there, you're life feels like it's bound.
As you sit there and wonder while life takes you under,
Without rhyme or reason, life passes you by.
Just take a lesson from me cuz you don't wanna be
In this empty padded room as you watch yourself slowly die..
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
My strength
It is not in the bulges of muscles
hidden under my sweater
or in the droplets of sweat
you can see on my forehead.
My strength.
It is not in the jiggle of my
******* on a braless noon
or in the flexibility of my waist
as I sway my hips
on a summer night's stroll.
My strength.
It is in the rotation of my wrist
the bend of my fingers
the position of my elbows
the flow in my pen
as I write this poem.
My strength.
Is on the smile on your face
As you read this.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
I woke up this morning
joyfully happily
The only though that runs through
My mind is you
Let be naught
Let get drunk and play stupid
Let feel the intoxication
No communication
Let screen till both knockoff
Let be naught
I wanna do everything with you
The **** of love is burning down my throat
Blow me off
Pant off
boxer off
and braless
Let be naught serious for once
It feels good
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:12 PM UTC
when they write about ******* they don't write about mine
when I read the word *******
I see mystical plump teardrops
kisses from the gods
tiny pink *******
perfect for putting your mouth on
mine hang as I write
slouched braless over my keyboard
dark round
odd things
too big in all the wrong ways
but alas
they are still ******* after all
Jun 21, 2021
Jun 21, 2021 at 2:29 AM UTC
Let be naught
I woke up this morning
joyfully happily
The only though that runs through
My mind is you
Let be naught
Let get drunk and play stupid
Let feel the intoxication
No communication
Let screen till both knockoff
Let be naught
I wanna do everything with you
The **** of love is burning down my throat
Blow me off
Pant off,boxer off and braless
Let be naught serious for once
It feels good
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC